


As Good As

by esama



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comic Book Science, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Procedures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Team Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 13:11:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10491630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: "After you've done open heart surgery with no anaesthetic, everything else is kind of small potatoes, really."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed  
> Credit for 40% of this story goes to Zinfandel, whose ideas I liberally pilfered

"Sir, Sir can you take a breath for me?"

Reality reasserts itself and then beaks into a blinding explosion of pain and Tony can't breathe, he can't think, he can't breathe –

"Engaging respirator."

He feels the invasive prod of tubes inserting themselves into his nostrils and the air, forcing itself down his nasal cavity, down his throat, inflating his lungs for him. In a blink the blackness fades a little and Tony can see hint of the hud in front of his eyes. Or is it the hud? He can't make it out properly, it's all blurry, and since he can't control his lungs and start to hyperventilate properly, he is thrown into a panic.

Something is wrong – everything hurts and something is very wrong. He's – he can't – something is _wrong_ –!

"I got you, Sir," JARVIS tells him, cutting through the haze. "Please calm down, Sir – I got you."

Tony tries to but it doesn't work and his vision starts going spotty, the blackness around the edges deepening, threatening to swallow him whole.

"I am administering a pain killer and a sedative, Sir, please refrain from trying to move," JARVIS implores him in strange voice, sharp and soft, just as the air gets a chemical tint to it. "You have a broken neck, Sir. Please, stay calm."

The sedative starts affecting him just fast enough for that sentence to make itself understandable. Everything is blurry because Tony's eyes are awash with tears and he thinks, he'd hit the ground, he'd hit the ground fast and wrong, almost head first, couldn't stabilise – and then comes, ridiculously, outrage.

How the heck can his neck break when he's in the suit? He build the thing so that it should be impossible – not just unlikely but flat out _impossible_!

Tony tries to ask, but his mouth isn't working – the pain is becoming distant but it's still there, crawling up his neck and radiating down his body, along his shoulders and arms. His jaw is locked up. He can't move.

 _He can't move_.

"Captain, please refrain from touching Sir," JARVIS speaks. "He has a broken neck and the suit integrity is compromised – any movements might aggravate the injury."

"Oh my god – is he –?" Steve gasps.

"Conscious and currently stable, but in dire need of medical care."

Tony thinks for a moment and then starts blinking rapidly – it's the only thing he can currently control. He blinks fast-fast-fast-fast, then slow-slow-slow, fast-slow-slow. JARVIS must be monitoring him _hard_ because it takes him no time at all to catch up.

"Number of plates were damaged approximately 11 minutes ago during the battle – the armour piercing shell that clipped you, Sir. The neck brace then gave away on impact, followed by the bearings and finally the framework," JARVIS explains and Tony blinks again. Fast-fast-fast, fast-slow-slow-fast, fast-fast – JARVIS answers before he can even finish. "C4 through to T2, Sir."

Tony closes his eyes and had he been in control of his breathing, he probably would've choked. That's not just a broken neck. That's most of his cervical spine. That's... that's a lot. Oh god, that's _too much._

"Hawkeye, get the Quinjet!' Steve shouts, million miles away. "Iron Man's down!"

"Sir?" JARVIS asks gently. "Hospital or tower?"

Tony can barely think but he opens his eyes and blinks slowly once for T. Then slow-fast-slow-fast, fast-fast-fast-fast, slow-slow-slow.

"I sending a message to doctor Cho now, and Doctor Wu as well," JARVIS answers. "I'll make sure they will be there in timely fashion. Ms. Potts has also been informed. You can pass out now, Sir – I got you."

Tony closes his eyes and passes out.

* * *

 

"Sir has lost consciousness," JARVIS informs Steve while the Quinjet comes to land not twenty feet from where Tony had crashed and is still lying, Iron Man's head at awkward angle. He looks all together unnatural, Steve thinks desperately. Even in armour, even in sleep, even _passed out drunk_ , Tony Stark is never so still and lifeless.

"Jesus, we need to get him to a hospital," Steve says, pushing his cowl off his face and then hitting his com. "Black Widow, what's your status?"

"We're just about done," Natasha answers. "The big guy and I can handle the rest – go, get Stark to a medical care."

"Roger that – don't do anything stupid, we're not leaving you with any back up."

"Psh, we _got_ this," Natasha answers and signs off. In the distance Steve can hear Hulk roaring just as the back of the Quinjet opens and Clint hurries out, pushing the reinforced Iron Man specific gurney as he comes.

"JARVIS," Steve turns to the armour. "How do we move him safely?"

"Very carefully, sir – his head must not be shifted from the angle it is at," the AI answers through the armour' speakers and then, "Stand by."

As Steve and Clint watch the armour moves on its own, slowly and carefully lifting it's hands – Tony's hands inside. It's a halting, meticulous process as the armour slowly braces both palms at each side of the faceplate, before stilling.

"I have locked the armour down as well as I can, but the neck supports are badly damaged," JARVIS says. "You may move him, but please take care."

JARVIS really must be anxious to double down on the warnings like that, Steve thinks worriedly while quickly kneeling down. Clint pushes the gurney beside Iron Man and drops it onto the asphalt, moving it on it's wheels back and forth a little to make sure it would roll the right way. "Okay, ready."

Steve shimmies his hands under the armour and then pulls, as carefully. Four hundred pounds of metal and hundred and seventy of man is nothing to Steve – he's lifted heavier loads – but most of those loads aren't mortally wounded. Every painstaking inch it feels like Tony might just… break.

He lifts Iron Man just above the necessary eleven inches for Clint to roll the gurney under him. Steve slowly rests Tony's weight on the gurney. "JARVIS, is he good?" Clint asks. "Can I strap him down?"

"Across chest, waist and legs only," JARVIS says and together Steve and Clint pull the straps over the still armour, binding it down onto the gurney.

"Right," Clint says, and together they lift the gurney back up. "Time to get the moneybags to a hospital."

"To the Tower, please," JARVIS objects.

"JARVIS, he needs medical care," Steve says with a frown.

"It has been arranged – at the Tower," JARVIS says, a bit more firmly. "Please. Sir needs specialised care he will not get in a normal hospital – everything he needs is at the Tower."

Steve shares a look with Clint over the immobile armour. "Don't look at me, I ain't the guy's medical proxy," Clint says. "But if JARVIS says Tower, I'm inclined to go to the Tower. God knows there's not much that _isn't_ in that thing."

"Alright," Steve says. The place several dozens floors – and even more laboratories. It wouldn't surprise him if there is a medical there too, somewhere, even if he hasn't seen one before. "Let's get him in and get moving."

It might be the fastest they'd ever returned to base, Steve thinks, as Clint pilots the Quinjet down on the Avenger's Tower's rooftop. Before the plane's engines are even off, it's swarmed by people in white coats who take Iron Man away. Clint and Steve can do little more than watch as the reinforced gurney is hurried off, and Tony with it.

"JARVIS called ahead?" Steve asks, noticing Ms. Potts standing by.

"He did," she says and frowns at them. "What happened?"

"I don't know, Ma'am – he took a hit, and went down," Steve says and then hurries to explain. "And I've seen him go down harder and take a worse hit than that and just walk it off before – I didn't even think it might be serious until he didn't get up."

"JARVIS?" Ms. Potts asks.

"There was an armour failure – the plates protecting Sir's neck gave away when he took a glancing blow from an armour piercing round," the AI answers, and if Steve hadn't known better he would've called his tone distracted. "It wasn't critically dangerous, until he fell at that precise angle, hitting his head that precise way – it put a pressure onto the weakened neck brace and it gave away. It was, in word, bad luck."

"Armour piercing – that's not bad luck, that's…" Ms. Potts breathes in and out for a moment. "Right, okay," she says in a way that reminds Steve a little of Tony, and then looks at him. "We got Tony, if you need to head back," she says, and her voice shakes a little. "Tony will whine like hell if he's the reason your mission goes wrong."

"That's alright, ma'am, we were almost done," Steve says reassuringly. "Natasha and the Hulk can handle the rest of it."

"They will need a ride back, though," Clint says. "And there's the prisoners. So I'll head back if you don't mind."

"No, of course not," Ms. Potts says with a dismissive wave. "I need to go see to Tony – Captain Rogers," she nods at him.

"Do you mind if I accompany you?" Steve asks, clenching his hands open and close. "I mean… it's _Tony_."

Ms. Potts hesitates for a moment, looking like she might object. Then she sighs. "Oh whatever, he can shout at me later," she mutters. "I don't have the time to figure this out – come on, let's go."

Steve blinks at her with surprise and then has to jog after her as Ms. Potts turns smartly on her heel and strides away, fast and purposeful. "Why would Tony shout at you?" he asks worriedly.

"Because he's an idiot," she snaps irritably. "Why else?"

"Er," Steve answers, a little uncertain. She's shook up – he hadn't even known that Ms. Potts could get shook up, but she's definitely shaken now. "I, ah, didn't know we had medical in the tower," he says, almost desperately.

"We don't," Ms. Potts says, as they make their way to the elevator, Steve dropping his shield onto the living room table as they pass it by. She turns sharply on her heel once inside and folds her arms – not even bothering to hit the floor button. The elevator moves regardless. "We do have medical lab though, specifically for Tony."

"I… a lab?" Steve asks with surprise, and then they're going down.

"This is Stark Tower – or _Avengers tower_ now, I guess," Ms. Potts says with a tight sort of amusement that doesn't really reach her eyes. " _Everything_ here's a lab. JARVIS, any word on the doctors?"

"Doctor Wu will be here inside the hour – thankfully he was in the neighbourhood," JARIS answers from all around them in the elevator. "Doctor Cho will take six hours, and that's with Quinjet to meet her in Honolulu."

"Arrange it," Ms. Potts says and taps the side of her arm impatiently. "How's Tony?"

"Still stable, Ma'am, but better once we get him to a proper life support," JARVIS answers. "He's arriving at the lab – now. With your permission I immediately will begin removing armour so that his neck may be properly braced."

"Do it," Ms. Potts orders.

By the time she and Steve make it into the mystery lab, Tony is already half out of his armour, stripped down to his waist. Steve stops to stare at him as one of doctors – nurses? – fit a gas mask over his chin. There is a hologram, live and shining, floating above Tony, a perfect replication of his body down to the exact angle his head is at and the terrible swelling of his neck – and it… doesn't make sense.

"What…" Steve murmurs.

The hologram is in several colours. The main swathe of colour is dedicated to muscles – faint glowing pink, which details the muscles down to their individual fibres, no doubt, if blown big enough. Then there is white for bones, and they're all perfectly modelled inside the translucent pink of muscle. Then there are separate colours for separate organs – yellow for stomach, purple for liver, a sort of orange for intestine.

And then there is blue for the… other things. It takes Steve a moment to realise what they are.

There are pinpricks of blue along Tony's legs and ankles, all over his left hand – he has a blue _something_ that seems to replace half of his left hip and part of his femur. There are blue _bars_ that run across the individual bones of his spine in his lower back, and Steve quickly figures out they're' _bracing_ the bones, somehow. Maybe even holding them together.

Then there is his chest. His cast is almost completely blue. It looks almost like someone had just upturned a bucket of random… _stuff_ on Tony's chest. A big blue cylinder that sinks deep into his chest. Something strange underneath it, it looks like piece of a motorcycle engine. Blue runs down the ribs as well, more braces attached to bones.

"Oh my god his neck," Ms. Potts whispers, and shakily Steve draws his eyes from _all the stuff_ in Tony's chest.

Tony's neck isn't broken.

It's _pulverised._

* * *

 

Hill and Steve are waiting for them when they land in the top of the Tower – she in impeccable suit and he out of uniform. He's washed up too judging by the looks of his hair, but something about him still screams battle ready. Natasha supposes that whatever happened with Tony, it's not good.

"How did it go?" Steve asks, looking them over – Clint who's checking the prisoners, Bruce who is huddling in the back with a too big hoodie wrapped around him, and Natasha, who might have a small head wound.

"It was fine," she says. "How did it go here? Tony?"

Steve hesitates, swallows and then shakes head. "Still in medical," he says. "They're waiting for one of his doctors – who is apparently being flown from Seoul."

Natasha frowns and Bruce looks up – even Clint pauses. "How bad is it?" Bruce asks roughly.

"It's – bad," Steve says takes a deep breath and then releases it slowly. "It's pretty damn bad."

"Go, go check on him," Hill says, in what she probably thinks is understanding tone of voice but really isn't. "I'll take care of the prisoners, get them down to the prison. We'll debrief later."

Steve nods, and the fact that he doesn't even put up an argument – the usual argument about finishing the job you started – don't come and that's almost scary. Natasha shares a look with Bruce and Clint and then they move, quickly following Steve inside.

"Is he stable?" Bruce asks.

"I think so – his doctors don't seem scared that he might die any moment, anyway," Steve says, running a hand over his hair and then he frowns. "I don't really get what's going on, but I don't think his neck… I saw it, I don't think you can just fix that."

Natasha frowns, and smothers the urge to rub at her own neck. She's broken it a couple of times – it was hard line of work – but never so bad that a couple of months in a brace couldn't fix it.

"If anyone can get it done, it's Tony Stark's people," Clint offers. "If money can buy it or some mad genius invent it, then he probably already owns it."

"Maybe," Steve answers, but he doesn't sound confident as he glances up. "JARVIS, can we see him?"

"Certainly," the AI answers omni-directionally from everywhere all at once. "It's a good time for it – Doctor Wu has just woken him up."

"He's _awake_?" Steve asks with surprise. "Is that – is that safe?"

"It's necessary," JARVIS answers, and opens the elevator doors ahead of them.

Natasha frowns, glancing up at the ceiling and then down again. JARVIS will never not bother her on some deep level that she's damn sure never to show to Tony – but that was pretty blatantly ominous. Necessary to wake up a patient with a broken neck – only an AI would make it sound like a… essential action, part of a function.

"Is Tony lucid?" Bruce asks with a frown as they file into the elevator.

"Lucid enough for Morse Code, sir."

That follows with a beat of silence as the elevator moves and the Avengers exchange looks of realisation. Morse – why would Tony use _Morse_ in situation like this?

Answer, he's paralysed and can only communicate via blinking.

"Shit," Natasha murmurs, pushing her hair off her face. It feels grimy to the touch – the bleeding has stopped, but the clotted, dried up blood is still there. She really needs a shower.

"Yeah," Clint mutters.

They arrive at the level – one Natasha hasn't visited before. It looks like just another part of Stark R&D, except somehow even more brutally futuristic – clean to the point of being almost sterile, and streamlined all through out. Steve leads them quickly through the corridor and then to the door of a lab and there, surrounded by about dozen people, is Tony Stark, lying on a medical table, his neck in brace with doctors and robotic arms all over him.

"Oh my god," Bruce murmurs, looking up to the hologram hovering couple feet above Tony, and steps closer to have a look. Natasha on other hand looks down, at Tony himself.

He is awake, blinking up at the hologram while one of the medical personnel fit something around his head, some kind of headset or monitor probably. It has two sensors each side of the head and a small screen over the left eye.

Tony closes his eyes as the doctor tightens the headset around his forehead and then opens them, narrowed in concentration. Above him, the hologram shifts – and then it reads, [Owwie] in big glowing holographic letters.

"The Telepresence headset is online," JARVIS says.

The doctor – who looks Asian and vaguely familiar though Natasha can't quite place him, mutters something and then asks, in Mandarin, "Mr. Stark, are you in pain?"

[Just a smidge – no don't give me anything more, I need to be able to think,] the holographic text writes in english and Tony stares with a frown at the hologram above him, the one of himself. Then he glances away, only his eyes moving, and looks at the Avengers. The hologram text rewrites itself. [Hi guys. Ever heard of patient confidentiality?]

"Oh, my god, Tony," Bruce says, in horror and exasperation.

"Ms. Potts allowed it," JARVIS says gently.

[Ms. Potts is being naughty,] the hologram writes, while Tony's expression doesn't shift a single bit, remaining utterly void of expression. [Where's Cho?]

"In transit," the Asian doctor says, again in Mandarin, and folds his arms, looking up at the hologram of Tony's body. "Should we get her on the phone?"

[I wanna see the damage first – JARVIS, strip it down.]

Natasha looks up, just in time to see some of what she knew – and lot of she didn't – about Tony's body disappearing as JARVIS strips the hologram down to the spine and then blows it up big, longer than Tony is tall. The damage there is… severe.

"C4 through to T2," Bruce murmurs shakily, going closer, staring at the hologram. "Tony, your spine is - that's not something you can just _fix_."

[Ye of little faith,] the hologram hovering by Tony writes.

Natasha folds her arms, looking between Tony and the hologram. It looks like Tony has had spine surgery already – on his lower back. And though it was just for a moment, she'd seen the… _numerous_ pins all over, holding broken bones together. Never mind the hip replacement. And the chest.

"Did you know Stark has had that much surgery done?" Clint murmurs to her under his breath.

"No," Natasha shakes her head, clenching her hand around her bicep to keep her fingers from twitching. "And I thought the arc reactor was removed."

"That's what that was?" Steve asks. "The, thing in his chest? I didn't know it goes that _deep_."

She looks down again. Tony's been stripped down to waist – and as far as anyone can tell, his chest is perfectly healthy, not a hint of damage or even scarring in sight. The kind of plastic surgery only a _lot_ of money can buy. Except – she'd seen the mess of his chest on the hologram. The arc reactor casing was still there, sunken in deep. And probably so is the actual reactor.

She thinks for a moment of _every moment_ she's seen Tony take a hit, seen him land rough, seen him almost blown up. He'd always walked it right off – except that one time, during the invasion. He'd always been fine. He'd always _says_ he's fine.

"Tony, you son of a bitch," she mutters.

The man glances down from his own broken spine and his eyes narrow just a little. [You know, I'm a bit too busy for guests right now,] he writes. [I'd hate to cut this sort but can you call in some other time?]

"And that would be your cue to leave," JARVIS says, and the door behinds them open.

Bruce looks like he'd like to object, but the doctors around Tony are already ushering them out, out of the laboratory and into the corridor outside. Natasha scowls at the door as it closes after them and then looks at Bruce. "How bad is it, really?"

"I'm not sure how he didn't die on impact," Bruce admits shakily. "And if he isn't paralysed for life, it will be a miracle."

"Jesus," Steve mutters.

"What about the rest of it, all the pins, the hip – the spine," Clint says. "Any of you knew about that?"

"I knew he had some work done," Bruce admits. "But… not that much. His lower back and the hip was a surprise – I wonder if it was after Afghanistan… JARVIS," he says and looks up. "When did Tony get hip replacement?"

"That's something you have to ask Sir himself," the AI answers. "But I can tell you it was after Afghanistan."

Natasha scowls, looking down. She kind of wishes she could make a joke out of it, the way Tony always does – but having seen what they had… "Iron Man is a lot harder on the body than he's ever let us know, isn't it?" she says quietly.

"It's not the fall or the flight that kills you," JARVIS answers. "It's the sudden stop at the end."

* * *

 

Bruce can't stop pacing. The other Avengers have wandered off to clean up and recover from the battle, but he can't calm down – can't out away the image of Tony's holographic body with all of it's faults and patch up jobs. In a glance he'd been able to read over _dozen_ broken bones, and that was probably just the beginning. Broken legs, broken ankles, shattered arm from what he'd seen, broken spine – twice now at least…

He's so furious about it, and he's not sure who's he more mad at – Tony or himself for assuming that this _wasn't_ happening behind the scenes. Tony flew around in a suit of armour and _regularly_ crashed into buildings, why had he assumed that none of that had any sort of effect? Tony was only human – a careless human with no super powers, no serum, no invulnerability of the Hulk to keep him safe – and a careless one at that.

Even Natasha and Clint did better, keeping themselves in two pieces. Tony just… went at it. And apparently had the broken bones to prove it.

"Shit," Bruce mutters, running his hands over his face. "Shit, shit…"

Somehow Tony's reaction to the whole thing was the worst of it. Paralysed with a broken spine and he hadn't had the decency of even being _alarmed_ or _worried_. It's so commonplace for him, his body failing him, that it didn't even garner a proper reaction.

And none of them knew.

He didn't know.

"Here's a question," Natasha says, coming into the penthouse living room with a towel draped around her shoulders, her hair hanging wet. "How did we miss all of that?"

"Tony's stellar skills at obfuscation and lies of omission?" Bruce asks.

"Yes, but none of that was exactly small. That many broken bones, that much surgery," Natasha says and drops to sit on one of the couches. "All of that takes recovery. The hip should've taken months at least, and you can't just walk off having pins inserted into your bones. He should've been out of commission for weeks, for months. Have you ever noticed Tony taking a sick leave?"

Bruce frowns. "No, I haven't," he admits and folds his arms. "He's been Iron Man for, what, six years now?" he makes a quick calculation, separating points of injury and repair, calculating the possible recovery time. "With all that damage, he should've spend about four of those years in recovery and physiotherapy."

They share a look and then look away as the elevator door open and Clint joins them – in civilian clothes and also with wet, shower fresh hair. "Have we decided how pissed off we are?" he asks. "Or are we still too freaked out?"

"We're so and so," Natasha answered. "Still more in the freaking out than in the pissed off stage, really. Reaching for answers, you know."

"Thought so," he says and collapses to sit beside her. "You know, I've had reconstructive surgery once – my knee," he says. "Took me six months to get back on the field."

"I remember, it was unbearable," Natasha agrees.

"Wonder how badly Stark _aches_ when it rains," Clint murmurs and leans his head back against the backrest of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "Because my knee kills me every time."

They're quiet for a moment and Bruce looks away. He's never broken a bone – not before Hulk and after he just isn't capable of it. He doesn't know what it feels like – though he can guess. The idea of Tony with not just all of that, but all of that and _alone_ …

Though judging by all of the doctors who'd been there and so ready for the whole thing, Tony wasn't alone. He has a whole private medical team, just for himself – just to put him together again, when the job of being a superhero broke him apart.

"Funny thing is," Bruce says slowly. "I always thought he was too reckless, that he didn't take care of himself well enough. But I never said anything because he always seemed fine…"

"And now you're vindicated?" Clint says and shakes his head. "There's something I've thought too. Stark doesn't know how to take a hit."

"He takes plenty of hits," Bruce says with a scowl, turning to him. "You saw how many hits he's taken!"

"Yeah, yeah, obviously, but that's not what I mean," Clint says and straightens his head to look at him. "He doesn't know how to roll with the punches. He takes them full on – doesn't try to mitigate the damage."

"Only form of hand to hand combat he knows is boxing and he's not very good at it," Natasha muses.

"I kind of always just brushed it aside because, you know, Iron Man – he's basically going around wearing a skin tight _tank_. I thought it was fine," Clint says and runs a hand through his wet hair. "But maybe it wasn't."

Bruce opens and clenches his fists and then looks away. "Doesn't really matter now, though, does it," he says. "He's not walking this off. His spine was _shattered_. That isn't something just few pins and bars can fix."

And that's the thing. After walking off so many injuries with nothing to show for it outwards… Tony isn't walking this one off.

He probably won't be walking _at all_ after this.

The elevator hisses and they look towards it grimly as Steve and Pepper enter the penthouse.

"Everyone's here, good," Pepper says, while stepping forward. She's carrying folders in her arms and her face is a little ashen. "I'm sure I don't have to ask for an NDA from you guys – but I will anyway. Tony's medical record is actual company secret and I will lawyer up to keep it private if I have to."

"You really don't have to," Bruce promises quickly. "We'd never break Tony's privacy."

"But we'll sign them anyway," Natasha says and stands up to accept one of the folders. "Pepper, how long has this been going on? Tony's injuries –"

"Since Afghanistan," Pepper answers, handing the folders out to the rest of them. "Super heroics are hard on the body. Read and sign first, and then I'll tell you what's up."

They read. The NDAs are and aren't standard – they remind Bruce of ones given to private medical care professionals, but at the same time there are mentions of technologies and advancements and inventions and the _hell_ unleashed on the person who leaked a single word out of any of it. Pepper isn't just going to lawyer up if she needs to – she'd bury people with contracts like these.

Bruce signs on the marked lines and then hands the folder back. Pepper checks it and nods and then waits for the others to finish as well. They all do – signing secrecy contracts is nothing new to this crowd.

"Good," Pepper says and looks them over. "Alright. Tony should've been the one to tell you this, but that ship sailed. How much did you figure out on your own?"

"We figured out that he's been hiding how hard piloting Iron Man is on him," Bruce says with a frown.

"The suit itself is fine – it's the rough landings that's the problem," Pepper says. "It's the being shot-at with armour piercing cells. It's flying into buildings and – falling from alien space portals. He takes a lot of fire, and the armour takes the edge off – but it can't stop impact forces all the way. It's not invincible and Tony isn't infallible. He gets hurt. A lot."

"He doesn't show it," Natasha says. "How isn't he in hospital around the clock?"

"A lot of very experimental technology and techniques," Pepper says simply. "Tony is the first human trial of… more medical technology that I can list right now. We've invented whole branches of biomechanical engineering, just because of him. Hence the NDAs and hence the secrecy. His body is literally a company secret."

"You're… inventing technologies just to patch Tony up," Steve says slowly, sitting down beside Natasha on the couch.

"We have and we will, for as long as he continues being an idiot and playing super hero," Pepper says with a scoff and folds her arms around the NDA folders. She releases a slow, calming breath.

Bruce frowns a little, thinking about it – thinking about just how long this has been going on. Since long before Avengers were a thing – and yet… they are a thing now. "Why am I not in on this?" he asks and he's maybe more than a little hurt by that.

"It's not exactly your field, Bruce," Pepper says apologetically. "And Tony didn't want you to stress over his health, when you have other things to be worried about and he has a perfectly good team to do it."

Bruce grits his teeth. It rings a bit hypocritical, considering how much Tony worries for him, for all of them, how much he does for them. The Tower, all the technology, the equipment – explosion proof rooms and whole satellite of technology just for containing the Hulk. All that, all the while hiding – or at least _not sharing_ – what was going on with him all that time.

"I know, I know, sometimes it pisses me off too," Pepper says with a sigh. "But Tony has a lot of very smart people working for him – and _on_ him. And we throw a lot of money at this. He's well taken care off – he's the _best_ taken care of man in the world, really. There isn't a injury he gets that isn't carefully tended to by the best minds in the medical field."

That doesn't do much to blunt the sharp edge of hurt, and judging by her expression she knows it too. Bruce shakes his head. "And now?" he asks tightly. "With his spine?"

"More experimental medical technology," Pepper admits and looks them over. "His chances aren't as bad as they'd be, with more conventional team of doctors and in more conventional hospital… but they're not stellar. Doctor Wu says he has roughly 40% chance of regaining full mobility."

"How exactly are you going to fix a crushed _spine_?" Bruce asks in frustration.

"We're not going to fix it, Doctor Banner," JARVIS says from the ceiling. "We're going to replace it."

* * *

 

Tony blinks and closes his eyes as one of the nurses gently wipes away the moisture leaking out of them. Then he looks hard up at the holograms floating above him – his own broken spine, and the replacement they're putting last touches into.

[Isn't that just the sexiest thing?] he asks, and it's actually a relief that his face is completely numb – it won't show how fucking terrified he is.

"The sexiest. Are you sure about the casing?" Doctor Wu asks almost conversationally. "We covered the arc reactor in synthetic skin – it might be safest to do the same with the spine. It _would_ be safest to do the same with the spine. And the port…"

Tony narrows his eyes a little. [Oh,] he writes above his head. [What would be the fun in that? Besides we've theorised this for months now and you know I'm headed this way anyway – if we _don't_ go head and do it now we'll just end up doing it later and that'll take another boring surgery.]

"Only you would find surgery boring, Sir," JARVIS says with a simulated sigh, and the hologram of the artificial spine spins in place. "In other news, Ms. Potts has finished explaining the situation to the Avengers. They are not best pleased."

[What else is new?] Tony answers and concentrates onto the spine. [What do you think, Doctor Wu?]

"Technology has gone too far and we're all going to die. And of course, it's perfect. We modelled it after your own spine, after all – and thankfully before you broke it," the doctor sighs and shakes his head. "I'd feel much better about all of this if Helen arrived already. JARVIS, how far out is she?"

"Two more hours, sir," JARVIS answers.

[Can we wait that long?]

There's a moment of silence as JARVIS calculates it and Doctor Wu considers it. "I don't like it," the doctor finally admits. "The bone fragments are putting a lot of pressure on your spinal chord and there is already a lot of damage. It will only get worse the longer we wait, and the Nanoneural Fibres are still only experimental, down right _theoretical_ … I'd prefer not to rely on them more than we absolutely have to."

[JARVIS?]

"I am not entirely positive about waiting much longer either, sir," JARVIS answers.

Tony closes his eyes for a moment, wishing he could take a deeper breath under the breathing mask, that he could sigh…. but he can't because his body doesn't work right now. [Do you need my input for anything else?] he asks then and opens his eyes.

"We're about as done as we can be," Doctor Wu admits, looking at the designs of the replacement spine. Then he looks down at Tony. "This won't be a quick and easy little surgery though. This will take hours – chances are Helen will make it on time for the important part anyway."

Tony glances at him and then at ceiling, past the hologram. [Okay. J,] he writes. [If I don't make it though this one…]

"I know, sir," the AI answers gently.

Tony spares a thought for the Avengers, everything he didn't tell them – and Pepper, for all the things she'd done for him, things he'd done to her. He really probably should've done something different there. He has a lot to make up for.

[Alright,] he thinks, feeling tears leaking into his temples, tickling at his hairline. [Let's do this thing.]

* * *

 

"Ms. Potts?" JARVIS asks gently. "They are prepping Sir for surgery, now."

Pepper almost drops the folders she's holding. "I thought we were waiting for Doctor Cho?" she says and looks up while the Avengers do the same.

"The bone fragments are putting pressure on Sir's spine and the longer we wait, the more of the spinal chord is damaged," the AI admits. "She might make it on time for the actual replacement – right now, the important thing is getting the bone fragments out."

Pepper lets that settle in for a moment and then looks down. Six years and she's _still_ not used to this part. "Alright," she says and her voice shakes only a little. "Keep me posted."

"Will do, ma'am," JARVIS says and falls quiet – directing all his attention where it matters the most, in aiding with the surgery.

"Well," Steve says hesitantly while Bruce starts to pace again. "I guess we'll… wait now?"

"Yeah," Pepper agrees and looks at the folders. Her vision is blurring a little and her knuckles are going white where she's holding the folders, all but twisting them in her fingers. "Yeah. Now we wait."

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure self indulgent weirdness. And possibly little bit of body horror. And eventually sexy stuff too, probably.


End file.
